SHADOW EMPIRE

by Drew Avera

  With those final words, Quino closed the connection and Ilium sat gawking at the monitor. What the hell just happened? He stared for a moment as the man who certainly had it out for him wrapped up his com-unit and carried on with his nightly routine. It was the second night in a row that the new XO made a secret call, but this time Ilium felt nervous. An investigation into whether he was behind the attack on the King Slayer was absurd, but as he thought about his past and the ways he manipulated the system in his favor before, he knew it was only a matter of time before coincidences fell short and someone would try to pin something on him. I’m not that guy anymore, though, he thought.

  Pulling back from his desk, his first thought was to contact Stavis and tell he what was happening, but the idea felt more like collusion which would support Quino’s investigation. Perplexed, Ilium had no idea what to do next. His strongest ally was on the hit list of an investigation that could see both trialed and executed. As much as he knew the justification was there for him, he could not let that happen to Stavis.

  Ilium paced his room, his robe hanging off his shoulders loosely as he placed one step in front of the other. The chill of the room went unnoticed as his mind turned, trying to formulate a plan that would keep himself and Stavis out of the hot seat. If Headquarters initiated the investigation, then there had to be some kind of evidence which supported their theory. What was it? If it exists, how can I use it to clear my name?

  The answer to that question escaped him, but as much as he knew it was wrong, he knew someone who would have an idea to save both their skins. He just hoped it didn’t dig them deeper into whatever hell Quino had planned.

  Ilium reached for his com-unit to make the call, but hesitated. What if Headquarters is tracking my calls? He set it down on his desk and reclaimed his seat. I can’t trust anything right now. Short of going to her stateroom and revealing what he’d learned, there was no way of notifying her without leaving digital evidence. “What the hell am I going to do?” he leaned back in his seat and tapped the desk with his com-unit. Life was easier when I had nothing to lose. Now, I feel like I have everything to lose, but I’m not going down without a fight. I just need to find the right weapon to win.

  An idea came to mind. Perhaps I do have the right weapon for the job. Stavis can manipulate the feed to show Quino colluding with an enemy. We can use it to conduct a tribunal and toss his sorry ass out of an airlock. The idea tickled the sinister bone in his body that made him susceptible to working for men like Haranger in the first place. Guilt chilled him as the ferocity of his plan came to the forefront of his mind. He knew the idea was sketchy enough to prove Quino’s case for him, but desperation was a miserable partner when cornered. And as much as Ilium hated to admit it, he may have met his match.

  Forty-Four

  Brendle

  The guards dropped him off with a huff of discontent. Saying nothing, the man left Brendle alone in the vacant room. Within it stood a simple table and four chairs. As he looked around, he noticed tiny slits for windows and suddenly felt imprisoned by his new environment. It was one thing to be on a ship without windows and having it under your control. It was another to be locked in a room on an unknown world. Brendle moved quickly to the door and gripped the handle, feeling it turn in his hand and the door lightly sliding open. The guard stood on the other side and gazed over to Brendle. “Do you need something?”

  “An explanation,” Brendle replied.

  The guard leaned closer. “Pila has received numerous threats from Greshia. Because of this, we fear and loathe your people. But we aren’t violent people. Any other world in any other sector would have let the crowd in the waiting room tear you apart, but my boss urged me to pull you from that situation before any damage was done. Is that enough of an explanation for you?”

  “Who’s your boss?”

  The guard scoffed. “Really? The Director of Medicine, Dr. Hathlene Otero.”

  Brendle sighed, not recognizing the name. “Please tell Dr. Otero I said thank you.”

  The guard nodded. “It would be best to keep the door closed. I’ll let you know when we receive word about the patient you brought in.” Despite the man’s seemingly helpful nature, the tone in his voice was not altogether friendly, but Brendle would take what he could get.

  “Her name is Anki,” Brendle said.

  The guard nodded again, clenching his jaw as two people walked past. “I’m sure it is, just as this door is shut.” The guard grabbed the handle and slid it closed.

  Brendle turned towards the table and stalked off. “What do I expect on a world that hates Greshians; a fucking parade in my honor?” he pulled a chair out and plopped down in it, kicking his right leg up onto the table facing the door. “One day this gods forsaken war will be over, or I’ll be dead.”

  He leaned back in the seat and pulled out his com-unit. Scrolling across the screen he found the latest news events. Stories of Greshian aggression cluttered the feed, minimizing the number of positive newscasts. It was propaganda, but he doubted any of it was untrue. As he swiped the screen again, he saw a report regarding Dr. Otero, the headline reading, “Pila’s Director of Medicine Donates Homes to Less Fortunate”. The headline told the bulk of the story, but Brendle’s eyebrows raised at the estimated funds required for the donation. Either Otero purchased upscale homes, or the cost of living on Pila was outrageous. “Remind me never to look for property here, not that these people would likely sell to me.”

  Brendle placed his com-unit on the table to conserve power and sat quietly, listening to the faint noises outside his non-prison cell. He couldn’t help but wonder how long before the door would be locked, and he would be trapped. Neither did he know why dark thoughts such as these often flooded into his mind. Perhaps a life on the run has tainted my happiness, he thought, but a knock on the door pulled him out of it. “Come in?” Not like I have a choice.

  The door slid open and Deis walked through. “I have to say, I don’t know what makes you so special that you get a VIP waiting room. I thought your being captain was more for the hierarchy during heated battle. You didn’t say it came with other perks.” A smile stretched across Deis’s face as he pulled the chair across from Brendle out and took a seat.

  “What’s going on? Did the heated crowd settle down?”

  Deis nodded. “Yeah, they had a few cheap shots to say after you left, but Malikea and I agreed with them about how terrible a person you are, and the fire died down.”

  Brendle chuckled. “It’s a good thing you religious types aren’t afraid to lie.”

  Deis’s grin widened, showing his teeth. “You would think that, right?”

  Both men laughed. “So, what brings you to my quaint corner of paradise?”

  Deis adjusted the sleeve of his robe before speaking. “The doctors verified our finding regarding the tumor and have taken her back for emergency surgery. Luckily, they have performed similar surgeries before on Luthians, even recently, which means her people are not extinct. She may find solace in that when she recovers.”

  “Do we get to see her before the surgery?” Brendle asked.

  “No. the doctor sent a nurse to relay this information to us because it was time-critical to get her back there and prepped. She was apologetic for the rush.”

  “Damn! What if I don’t get to see her again or she doesn’t recognize me? Brain surgery is a gamble.”

  Deis nodded. “The doctor has done this many times with a high success rate.”

  “Does he have a one-hundred-percent success rate? If not, those unsuccessful numbers are filled with people who had faith in his ability to succeed.”

  Deis sighed. “Look, I know you’re worried, as am I, but it’s out of our hands. We couldn’t do anything for her and the doctor will do everything he can. We just need to have faith.”

  “Easy for you to say−you grew up with faith. I grew up in a broken home and spent most of my time in the streets. Faith isn’t an easy concept for me.”

  “
And neither is friendship towards Greshians for us, yet we consider you our brother. Faith manifests itself in different ways, Brendle. Don’t feel defeated so easily.” Deis’s eyes darted from side to side and Brendle could tell his friend was uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry, Deis. I’m just worried and I don’t know how to handle the emotions I’m feeling. I didn’t mean to put all this off on you.”

  “I understand. I need to go back with Malikea. He’s holding our seats, but he wasn’t very comfortable in that room. He’s not fond of people harboring hate in their hearts for others.”

  “He’s always been the gentler one of you,” Brendle said.

  “He has his warrior side buried, but his strength is always just beneath the surface and ready when I need him.”

  “Why don’t you two stay here with me? There’re enough chairs for the three of us.”

  Deis shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I don’t know, these chairs are hard, and I liked the cushions on the ones in the waiting room,” he teased.

  “Come on, man, don’t leave here to wallow in my thoughts alone.”

  Deis laughed. “Let me get Mal and drag him in here. If anyone was attached to the cushioned seats, it would be him.” Deis rose from his seat and slid the door open. “If I’m not back soon, don’t go to your dark place. You need to stay positive, not just for Anki, but for you too.”

  “All right,” Brendle replied as he watched his friend step out of the room and slide the door closed again. Alone with his thoughts, the dark place was the most familiar, and like an addict, he soon found himself there once again.

  Forty-Five

  Ilium

  Standing before her, the looming threat of Quino’s investigation felt more real. Stavis’s nose scrunched up and her lips pursed, her fingers tapping on the console as she scrolled through the recorded feed of Quino’s conversation with the mystery person. “I have a hard time believing Headquarters would send an investigator this far out to conduct an investigation. Normally, the ship would be recalled back to Greshia and ported while a team of investigators worked the case.”

  “Is it possible for this to be an attempt to discover more details about my past before pressing charges?”

  Stavis leaned back, listening to the exchange between Quino and Headquarters for the fifth time. Each time she leaned closer to the monitor trying to make out the image on Quino’s monitor, but the glare of the screen obscured most of it. “Anything is possible, I suppose, but he sounds adamant about me working for you, and if this is an attempt of gathering evidence, then he won’t find any regarding my involvement before you boarded the King Slayer.”

  “So, you should be exonerated, then?”

  Stavis shook her head. “Not necessarily, I could still be found guilty of collusion, especially considering you opened up to me about the past and I failed to report it.” Ilium wiped his clammy hands on his pants and crossed his arms over his chest. Each time she spoke of her failure to report, it made his heart beat faster. He knew it wasn’t a threat, but he also knew he deserved nothing less than one. How far would an investigation go before she rolled over on him to save herself? Or was it too late for her as well? “The main issue I have with this is that his credentials could not be verified when he arrived. Even if he was an investigator, he would be in the system. Headquarters usually does a better job regarding such things.”

  Ilium sighed. “What do you suggest I do?”

  “If Headquarters has reason to believe you were behind the attack, and they use details from your previous experiences in the fleet, then I can see why an investigation would be necessary. But I’m speaking as someone who you’ve opened up to about the situation and explained details not found in message traffic.”

  “You looked it up?” Ilium cut her off.

  She nodded. “I did, because I wanted to see how far back I could trace events. The thing is, Haranger seems to have his hands in the Greshian Navy’s systems at all levels. I remember the events leading to your rescue from the Hamæråté. There’s no record of that ship existing any longer.”

  “Why would he want to erase that information?”

  “Why does someone working in the shadows of the empire do anything?”

  Ilium pulled a chair closer to Stavis and took a seat. “So, if there’s no evidence of my past skirmishes, then what can they prove?”

  Stavis shrugged. “That’s a good question, but a better one is what will they do if they feel they have a case.”

  “You heard him, tribunal and execution,” Ilium replied.

  “Weak case,” Stavis said. “And you can make it weaker with a confession.”

  Ilium gawked at her, puzzled by her statement. “I don’t follow. Won’t an admission of guilt make the case for them?”

  “It makes a case against you for espionage, but not for the attack which killed our sailors. Besides, you can claim you were forced into the role against your will and, as soon as you found a way to escape Haranger’s clutches, you took it in order to serve Greshia properly.”

  “Do you think that will work?”

  “It will work better than Quino’s making a case on scraps of information and false assumptions.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “No? Then what idea do you have−to do nothing at all?”

  Ilium thought for a moment. She had a point; there was more at stake than his pride. If Quino could make a case against both of them, then any admission of guilt would be dismissed, and both would be executed quickly and severely. If he could find a way to bring up those events in a way that wasn’t a red flag that he knew he was under investigation, then perhaps it would open a door for a deal.

  “I’ll do it,” he said.

  Stavis nodded. “Just don’t provide too many details. Use general terms and statements. Make it sound like you were manipulated into certain actions.”

  “All right,” he replied, looking away and biting his lip. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

  “Nothing right ever is, sir.”

  “Thank you for not thinking the worst of me,” he said as he rose from the seat. With a hand on the door, he looked back at her as she manipulated the monitor and scrolled through the feed again.

  “You’re not a bad person, sir. You’re just someone put in a bad situation and trying to make the best of it. This could be your chance to unload the burden you carry and silence Haranger once and for all.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m always right,” she said with a wink.

  Ilium smiled, opened the door and stepped out into the brightly lit passageway. She’s right, he thought, I need to let go of the burden I bear and move on with my life. Maybe this is the right time to do that. I just hope I don’t lose everything in the process.

  Forty-Six

  Hespha

  Valara spun in orbit between Belatia and its moon. The details finally came together for Hespha as she peered from the window to see the name of the ship blazoned in crimson, like all the other ships in CERCO’s inventory. She, of course, recognized Belatia from her childhood trips with her father. Hiding in plain sight, Valara was more station than ship, though it could travel if needed. As a research station, it was the best kept secret within CERCO. As a military operation, Hespha didn’t know if anyone outside the station was aware of what was happening.

  “Welcome to Valara, ma’am,” a short, stocky man in a white lab coat said as the doors cycled open. “I hope your flight was pleasant.”

  “It was something,” she replied, taking his hand and shaking it. “I have to say, I’m surprised T’anoi never mentioned this place before. It’s amazing.” As those last two words left her lips, she saw two armed guards taking position above their location. She knew what this was, but she also knew they wouldn’t fire unless provoked. How better to keep secrets than by killing those who discover them?

  “Yes, well this operation was to be unknown by a lot of people.”

  “Yet, our compa
ny was able to find evidence of your existence?” Hespha rebuked. “Tell me, how do we keep that from happening again?”

  The man stammered. “I…I’m not sure.”

  “What is your name?” She asked.

  “Vires, ma’am.”

  “All right, Vires. There are three things I would like from you as soon as possible.”

  “What are they?”

  “First, I want those men with the guns to stop pointing them at me. Second, I want a tour of the facility, and I’m not talking about a small portion of it−all of it. And third, I need to see a doctor.”

  Vires looked up and waved his arm. The guards lowered their weapons immediately, but didn’t walk away. “That’s done. Perhaps I can escort you to the doctor before beginning the tour?”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’m fine to do the tour now. I’m very curious what kind of research you’re doing here.”

  “Um, all right,” Vires replied nervously.

  “That’s it? Just like that you’re going to give me the tour of your secret station?” Hespha asked skeptically.

  “We have strict instructions to adhere to your requests.”

  “On whose authority?” Ka’Hor’al asked, interrupting his silence. Hespha looked at him, but it was too late.

  “T’anoi’s authority. With his passing, all of this goes to you, Hespha.”

  “Then why have weapons trained on me when I entered the station?”

  Vires swallowed nervously, looking down at his feet before speaking. “Because T’anoi did not trust his brother. The weapons were not for you, but for him.”

  “What? That’s absurd,” Ka’Hor’al shouted. Within seconds, weapons were trained on him once again.